


Eternity in an Hour

by turps



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Age Regression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:51:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: d'Artagnan comes back to the garrison and finds someone unexpected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the picfor1000 challenge hosted on livejournal.  
> This is a challenge to post a story of exactly 1000 words based on a picture prompt.  
> My prompt was [here](https://www.flickr.com/photos/naomiwoddis/7982608699/in/photostream/)
> 
> As always, huge thanks go to themoononastick for beta reading.

This early, d’Artagnan expects to slip back into the garrison unseen, even Serge an hour from waking. Instead, as he walks past the gate he sees someone at the bench the inseparables have claimed as their own.

Instantly alert, d’Artagnan’s hand goes to the hilt of his sword, wary as he says, “Hello. Are you lost?”

The child -- for it is a child, a very young boy child -- looks up, eyes wide and blinking back tears. “Dn’tknow.”

“You don’t know if you’re lost?” d’Artagnan steps closer and lets his hand drop, instinct telling him this child means no harm. “You must know where you came from. Did you run from home?”

It’s something d’Artagnan’s done in the past for all of an hour, back when he was barely out of short britches and felt it very unfair he had to eat all of his carrots. But the boy shakes his head, his mess of dark curls falling forward and hiding part of his face.

d’Artagnan drops to one knee, observing the boy and says with a smile, “So what, you just appeared here? Like magic. Whoosh.”

A long pause, and then, with a deep intake of breath, the boy says, “Yes!” and bursts into tears.

At a loss, all d’Artagnan can think to do is to scoop up the boy, trying to soothe as he says, “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

The boy cries even louder.

~*~*~*~

“And he was just sitting there?” Bleary-eyed, Athos rubs at his face, scowling as he pushes up from his bed. Hair sticking up wildly, he stares at the boy who’s plastered against d’Artagnan’s leg as if trying to hide.

“You’re scaring him.” d'Artagnan says, hearing the hitch of the boy’s breath. “And yes, he was just sitting there.”

“Did you run away? Or did someone bring you here?” Athos asks, and at a look from d’Artagnan, softens his voice just a little. “Do not be afraid to tell us the truth.”

A long moment, and the boy moves his head just a touch, enough that when d’Artagnan looks down he can see one brown eye still glistening with tears. “No.”

“No, you didn’t run away? Or no you weren’t brought here?” Athos asks, cool and clipped, frowning when d’Artagnan shoots him another sharp look. 

“I think it’s a no to both,” d’Artagnan says, resting his hand on the child’s shoulder. “We should tell the Captain.”

“I agree.” About to stand, Athos stops when they hear a voice from outside. “Anyone in there? I heard voices.”

“I’m here.” Soothingly, d’Artagnan strokes the boy's head, trying to provide comfort as Porthos enters the room. “Along with…. What is your name?”

Hesitantly, his head still tucked in close to d’Artagnan, the boys whispers, “Rene.”

“Rene?” 

At first d’Artagnan is unsure why Porthos sounds surprised, or why Athos’ look is assessing. Then, realisation clicks into place, “Aramis. His father must be Aramis.”

“The resemblance is there,” Athos allows. “And it’s conceivable that one of Aramis’ past paramours has left him the child. But…”

“But, I don’t think so.” It’s Porthos who finishes the thought, and d’Artagnan doesn’t understand their reluctance to accept the obvious truth. 

“What else could it be?” d’Artagnan asks, looking between Athos and Porthos who’re yet again holding one of those unspoken conversations that d’Artagnan feels unable to decipher. 

Porthos ignores the question, attention solely on Rene. “Do you live on a farm?”

“Si. Yes.” Still clutching d’Artagnan’s leg Rene looks up at Porthos. “I want mama.”

“We’ll find her.” Porthos sighs, exchanging another look with Athos as he adds. “I promise.”

With that, d’Artagnan gets what they’re thinking.

~*~*~*~

“It’s ridiculous” While d’Artagnan can see the resemblance between Aramais and Rene, that has to be paternal, and not some kind of witchcraft. “Aramis can’t be Rene, things like this don’t happen.”

“To you, maybe.” Porthos looks up, body language unthreatening and voice kept low. “But I saw lots of unexplainable things at the court.”

“As did I,” Athos says, and then adds, “But not at the court, of course.”

“You’re saying you’ve seen grown men turn into children before?” d’Artagnan fights the urge to laugh wildly, sure this is some kind of joke. “It doesn’t happen. It can’t.”

“But it has,” Porthos points out, seemingly totally accepting that Aramis has turned into a child.

“Maybe he insulted a warlock,” Athos suggests. “Or slept with a witch.”

“None of that talk.” Porthos indicates Rene while gently clamping his hands over his ears. “There are children present, and witches or not, Aramis always remains on good terms with his conquests.”

“True,” Athos says, fighting a smile as Rene giggles when Porthos pinches the tip of his nose. “But it’s a consideration regardless.”

“Witches, warlocks. Seriously?” The situation is surreal, and d’Artagnan feels he’s the only one sane as Rene inches towards Porthos, seemingly awarding his trust. “This _can’t_ be Aramis. This is a three year old child.”

“No I’m not.” Unexpectedly, Rene stands tall, chin held high as he announces with pride. “I’m _four_.”

And suddenly, everything clicks into place. The proud stance, the look in his eyes, the bravado while pushing back fear. This is Aramis, his mannerisms and lines not yet hardened with time, but still, Aramis nonetheless.

All d’Artagnan can say is, “So how do we get him back?”

~*~*~*~

In the end it turns out to be simple.

A day and then night where Rene goes to bed with a full belly and clad in an oversized shirt, the hem and arms trailing the floor as he says prayers and bids them goodnight.

Then, hours later, d’Artagnan wakes and sees Porthos and Athos asleep on the floor, a full-grown Aramis motionless in bed beside them.

d’Artagnan grins at the sight, happy his friend has returned. But, even so he misses Rene a little -- and as d’Artagnan slips back into sleep, he remembers a small hand in his own, high-pitched giggling, and a boy still innocent and unaware of the hard life that stretches before him.


End file.
